'Flossy,' she said, 'I wrote to your——' but then she stopped, and just stared in surprise.
Anne had got back her wits by then, and she explained it all—how it was partly, anyway, her fault about the brooch being lost, and how pleased she'd be to find it, and all about what Flossy had told them, and how she and Serry had come off by themselves, not even knowing the name, or the number of the house.
Lady Nearn was very kind, but I don't think she quite took in that it was really naughty of them to have come out without leave. You see, Anne hadn't got to think it naughty herself, yet. She fetched the brooch just to show Anne—though, indeed, from the way Anne spoke of it, she was sure it wasn't it, and of course it wasn't!
Anne could nearly have cried with disappointment.
Then it did strike Lady Nearn to ask how they were going home again. It was quite dark by now. She couldn't send a servant with them, for the house was rather upset—three of the children were ill.
'Indeed,' she said, 'I must write to Mrs. Warwick to explain. I hope no harm will come of it, as you have only seen the twins, who are quite well, so far, and separated from the others.'
But all the same she seemed anxious to get them away, and she suddenly rang the bell and told George—who must have looked rather astonished to see the 'school brats' such friends with his mistress—to run round to the stables and tell the coachman to call at the house on his way to fetch Lord Nearn from somewhere or other. That was how Anne and Serry came home in a carriage.
We didn't hear the whole ins and outs of the story at once, but we made the girls tell it us over afterwards.
Just now Anne could hardly get through with it; for she began crying when she understood how frightened mums had been, and begging her to forgive her.
Mums did, of course—she always does. And then she sent us upstairs to finish our tea. But as we left the library I heard her say to herself—